


Like a Fish

by onionrings_andhoneymustard



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22914658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onionrings_andhoneymustard/pseuds/onionrings_andhoneymustard
Summary: It’s just sex.That’s what T.K. tells himself, even as he guides Carlos into his bedroom with fingers hooked through the man’s belt loops.  That’s what T.K. tells himself as he flips the lock on the door and leans into the kiss Carlos presses against his lips.  It’s just sex.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star)/TK Strand, Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 10
Kudos: 177





	Like a Fish

It’s just sex.

That’s what T.K. tells himself, even as he guides Carlos into his bedroom with fingers hooked through the man’s belt loops. That’s what T.K. tells himself as he flips the lock on the door and leans into the kiss Carlos presses against his lips. _It’s just sex._

He can’t afford for it to be more than that. Not when he still thinks of Alex every day. Not when he’s one lapse in self-control away from downing shots of tequila until he hits the floor. Not when he can feel a dark thorniness still twined around his ribs and scratching the back of his throat.

It’s just sex, he reminds himself as Carlos steps back and in one fluid movement is on his knees. He watches the hands tug at his belt, the movement making his hips jerk slightly. _It’s just sex._

“God, I want you,” Carlos states once the belt is undone, head tipping back to look at him. The sincerity in his voice makes T.K. freeze. Something’s shifted between them. Something palpable and undefinable. T.K. can feel it.

He stares for a moment before saying, “I want you, too.” It comes out quieter than he’d intended, the truth of it making him feel fragile; like he’s made out of sugar glass, ready to break with little provocation. He wants Carlos.

Carlos’ grin is radiant. “Well, good. Good.” The hands are moving again, button popped out and zipper being tugged down before T.K.’s brain has a chance to catch up. 

“Wait.”

Carlos pauses, zipper still pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

It’s just sex. 

“You can’t say things like that.” T.K. is scrambling, trying to find the bricks to rebuild his wall. _It’s just sex._ It’s just a beautiful distraction. It doesn’t _mean_ anything.

“Like what?” Carlos is calm, letting his hand fall against his thigh. The part of T.K. that isn’t panicking knows he could end this thread of conversation, slide back into the familiar territory that leaves them loose and relaxed and breathless. But part of him knows they were bound to end up here sooner or later, and now that they’re here he can’t find it within himself to redirect.

“That you want me.” There’s a pain in his chest. He presses his palm flat against his sternum, swallows hard.

“I do, though.” Carlos gestures to himself on his knees. “I thought I was being pretty obvious about it.”

“Carlos.” The pain isn’t going away. He can’t find the bricks; he can barely think. “You can’t say things like that. You’ll make me feel things.”

“T.K.,” Carlos responds patiently, rising to his feet. “It’s okay to feel things.” _It’s just sex._ Carlos reaches for his hand, and T.K. lets him take it. Lets Carlos step into his space with a confidence T.K. wishes he felt right now. Lets Carlos wrap an arm around his waist. Lets Carlos brush their lips together.

“It’s just sex,” he says, voice torn like a sheet of wet paper.

Carlos presses his lips firmly against T.K.’s temple. “It doesn’t have to be.”

T.K. folds into him then, pressing his face against Carlos’ neck. It’s too much. He had tried to be careful, tried to keep enough distance between them. He should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to keep it up. Not when Carlos looks the way he does. Not when Carlos calls him _cariño_ when he thinks T.K. is asleep. Not when Carlos gives the edges of his world the color it’s been missing since he left New York.

“It doesn’t have to be just sex,” Carlos repeats, squeezing his hand. “It can be more.”

T.K. squeezes back. He doesn’t say anything.

It turns out to not be just sex.

**Author's Note:**

> "One day you'll meet someone and it'll literally take your breath away. Like you can't breathe. Like no oxygen to the lungs. Like a fish." —Tommy, Friends With Benefits


End file.
